A Wager
by The Dark Knight's Revenge
Summary: "I think we have a wager on our hands, Mr. Darcy." "A wager?" "Yes. To see who can teach the other more about the intimate arts. Whomever wins decides a shameful task for the other." "Miss Bennet, I-" "Are you game, Mr. Darcy?" Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett begin a war of the sexes to determine who can best the other with intimacy, with complicated consequences. Lemons, PWP.
1. Chapter 1

The last thing Elizabeth Bennett expected that morning was a caller; even less so the likes of one Mr. Darcy. So when he intruded on her sanctum just as she was practicing with her throwing stars, she was, as to be expected, very surprised and quite cross indeed.

"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said, moving to pluck the throwing star out of the wood door frame where Darcy had appeared moments ago, startling her. "to what do I owe the pleasure?" She hoped her tone came off sufficiently sarcastic.

"Adjust the angle of your elbow, and you'll be less likely to miss your target." He replied smoothly.

"Considering the pride you take in your appearance, I thought I'd spare you the stitches." She replied, almost as smooth. A slight flush arose on Mr. Darcy's cheeks.

"You know much of the deadly arts." Darcy said, fingering a gouge in the woodwork of the doorframe.

"I would not trade my shaolin training for anything in the world." She replied smoothly, taking aim with her throwing star and sending it straight into her target across the room.

"Again, adjust your elbow." Darcy said.

"Do you proclaim to know more about the deadly arts than I? Your prideful tone suggests it." Elizabeth said, flushing in anger. Darcy smirked. She grit her teeth and kicked at him. He sidestepped gracefully, taking her foot in his hands and shoving her backwards into a puddle. Elizabeth coughed, the wind knocked out of her. She kipped up, drawing a fighting stance. Darcy remained impassive. She attacked again, only to get her arms crossed in front of her followed by a fell timed tackle that pushed her up against a beam.

"I think I know a great deal more about many things, Miss Bennett." Darcy said, his voice husky as usual.

"Like what?" She shoved him off and sent a kick at his feet, which he avoided.

"Politics-" He blocked a punch.

"Society-" He ducked.

"Love." He finished, pinning her to the wall behind her. She was trapped beneath his strong arms.

"And how do you know I haven't experienced that?" Elizabeth asked. Darcy tensed, waiting for the blow to come, but it didn't.

"A proper english citizen wouldn't speak of such things, let alone experience them." Darcy said, loosening his grip.

"And so you admit that you've never been with a woman?" This time Darcy was sent flying back into the opposite wall.

"I -what?" His face registered genuine surprise.

"A woman." Elizabeth wiped a spot of blood off her lip from where she'd bitten it. "You've never been with one?"

"I have, in fact, been with a woman, _Madam."_ Darcy said. "I can hardly believe you would presume to ask such a thing."

Elizabeth shrugged, and dropped into a fighting stance once more.

"Am I to presume myself that you have been with a man?" He asked, facing her with fists raised. They met in the center of the room, blocking punches.

"Would you be surprised if I said I had?" Elizabeth asked, binding his hands in front of his chest.

"Infinitely." Darcy replied, wrenching his hands out of her grasp and backing away. "I am surprised at your candor."

"So then you cannot accurately surmise that I am inadequately educated in all matters." She said, crossing her arms.

"I suppose I cannot, but an old proverb states that where there is more knowledge known-"

"There is more to be learned. Are you suggesting that I get a tutor for this sort of knowledge?" Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow.

"I- well, no. I merely stated that you could always learn more. With a husband, of course." Darcy cleared his throat.

Elizabeth chewed on her lip for a moment, obviously thinking about something. Darcy relaxed his stance.

"I think we have a wager on our hands, Mr. Darcy."

"A wager?"

"Yes. To see who can teach the other more about the intimate arts. Whomever wins has to complete a task of the others' choosing."

Darcy floundered for an answer, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"Miss Bennet, I-"

"Are you game, Mr. Darcy?"

They froze for a moment, and then he gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head.

"We tell no one." Elizabeth said.

"Discretion is of the utmost importance, our little game would be of utmost interest to outside parties."

They stared at each other a moment more.

"What did you come here for, Mr. Darcy?"

"I was going to inform you that I was leaving the countryside for the season, but I believe I have found a reason to stay."

"Oh. Well, consider yourself free once our wager has been decided."

"I shall." He said, face blank. He turned swiftly on his heel to go. A throwing star whistled across the room towards his back. He reached out and caught it midair, turning back to her.

"I believe you dropped this." He said, his voice rumbling, even huskier than usual. He moved to where she stood until their face were inches apart.

Then he leaned in and took her lips, crushing her body to his. He was neither gentle or slow in his ministration, forcing his tongue inside her mouth and fighting for dominance. Then as quickly as he started, he was finished, turning away and leaving.

"Consider that your first lesson, Miss Bennett."


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth stood, completely blown off course. Her lips tingled and her ears rang with Darcy's final words. As swiftly as the kiss had begun, it had ended. But she wanted more. She wanted Darcy to kiss like that again.

She slowly walked upstairs, making no move to fix her disheveled appearance. She sat down at the writing desk and stared at a blank sheet of paper. She would send him a letter, yes. But she couldn't move her hand.

Suddenly this whole situation just seemed folly. There was no way she had enough experience to keep up with Darcy. She'd outright lied about having been with a man. She had no experience in the intimate arts. And yet, that could work in her favor.

One of her most shameful secrets, not even Jane was aware of. It was centered around the completion of her Shaolin training. It was tradition in her temple for graduating monks to divest themselves of all fears - fear of impurity being one of them. Before their training could be finished, they would have to be divested of their "virtue" by an accommodating party.

To her knowledge, her sisters had all completed their training without a hitch. They had all spent their required evenings in the privacy of the dormitories, then gone to confession the next morning after their training had been pronounced complete and been absolved of their sins in the name of protecting the Crown.

Only her father and master knew of her inability to complete her task. She suspected her father had paid the temple a handsome sum in order for her to graduate. Her father had never broached the topic with her, but she wore the shame of incomplete training all the same.

But now, with Darcy, she had a perfect opportunity. After all there was no one else she detested more. If she allowed him to shed her of her virtue, her training would be symbolically complete and then they could part ways and never see one another again. Hopefully he would be eaten the next opportunity the dreadfuls got.

Elizabeth picked up the pen and with quick strokes penned a letter:

 _Dear Mr. Darcy, enclosed are my conditions._

 _1\. All calls for 'stop' and 'halt' will be respected in the event of the task becoming too much._

 _2\. No permanent harm._

 _3\. No personal feelings._

 _I will be waiting in the orchard on the morrow. Meet me at your earliest convenience._

 _E.B._

She entrusted the letter to the footman, handing him an extra hatchet for protection on his way over to Netherfield. As she watched him ride away, her stomach jumped nervously.

If she were to best Darcy in the competition, she would have to learn quite a bit. Research would be required. Elizabeth wiped the ink from her hands. She must to the library, to study her father's forbidden tomes.

* * *

 _Dear Mr. Darcy, enclosed are my conditions._

 _1\. All calls for 'stop' and 'halt' will be respected in the event of the task becoming too much._

 _2\. No permanent harm._

 _3\. No personal feelings._

 _I will be waiting in the orchard on the morrow. Meet me at your earliest convenience._

 _E.B._

Fitzwilliam Darcy couldn't believe his eyes. He couldn't believe that a proper Englishwoman, such as he had believed Miss Bennet to be, would have the gall to go through with this... this plan!

His anger was only outmatched by his desire for a challenge...and by his desire for a woman. It had been some time since he'd had his needs met, pride keeping him from overindulging on the cheap whores that frequented the streets outside his London apartment.

No personal feelings... Darcy could do that. He would use Elizabeth's bluster to his advantage, and when she ran out of courage he would be able to disappear risk-free. It was the ideal situation.

But say she didn't give in to the pressures of their game...

He had no idea if she were lying about her experience with men. He knew that students of the Shaolin divested themselves of all anchors, including physical ones. But how much further she had explored was a mystery. If she was a wanton, she hid it well behind her prideful manner.

If she called his bluff instead of the other way around, he would have no choice but to test the final boundary. He had no collusions about allowing her access to his full physical map, he would prove himself steeled against whatever feminine charms she purportedly had.

But even as he thought it, Darcy felt his groin stir with anticipation.

Tomorrow. _The orchard._

And there he was in his personal study, hard as a rock. That would not do. He scribbled a hasty reply to Elizabeth, rang for the footman, and attempted to compose himself. His breeches felt godawfully tight.

After the footman left, armed with an extra pistol, Darcy let his thoughts wander again. What sort of things could he teach Elizabeth? What sort of things would he be taught?

* * *

Elizabeth looked down at the hastily scribbled note.

 _7:00. Darcy._

Two words on an awfully large piece of paper. But how they made her stomach turn. She crumpled the paper and tossed it into the fireplace, her eyes returning to the pages of the book she'd been perusing all afternoon.

She turned a page, an illumination from the _Kama Sutra_ causing a flush to creep up her neck and between her thighs. It showed a man with a woman on top of him, his... _nether regions_ penetrating not just her most sacred space, but another place entirely. The thought of it filled her with disgust and curiosity.

She had learned things beyond her comprehension in the small time she'd spent in the library with the book. She longed to steal away and examine herself in the way that the book described, feel the things that these women were feeling... And yet, it was almost shameful what they were doing.

One of her hands slid into the pocket of her skirt, edging along her thigh as she examined the illustration. Her fingers prodded the area between her legs, surprising her with a bolt of warm pleasure as their exploration yielded new feelings. She knew the area down there was naturally wet and covered with delicate hair, and must be kept clean at all times. But she had never delved beyond practicality.

Elizabeth prodded the area again, pleasant feelings shimmering outwards through her body. And again, and again, until...

"ELIZABETH!" Her mother bellowed from the sitting room. She jumped, withdrawing her damp fingers. She wiped her hands hastily and composed herself before closing and returning the book.

Her heart jumped at the thought of the next morning and what was yet to come.

* * *

Darcy's hand tightened around his shaft and trying to grind the last few strokes needed to achieve his release. The motions were so practiced from frequent need for relief that he failed to understand why his release did not wax closer, he sighed in frustration.

He had practiced for years the ability to release without, in fact, releasing any seed. A practical notion in these times. But he had grown so used to pulling himself back from the brink of total release that he barely remembered what it felt like. And now he couldn't find release whatsoever. It had been so long.

 _You want to finish inside her. ON her._ A wicked, wicked voice in his head whispered.

"No." He said, letting his hand fall still. His member twitched and began to fall flaccid.

 _You want to cover her body with your seed, letting it cover her-_

 _"_ No..." Darcy whined. But the mental imagery was enough. He was growing hard again, aching.

 _Her pink tongue flicking out to gather up a pearl of his seed, taking it all in-_

 _"_ Agh!" He felt his orgasm hit like a shock and he barely pulled himself back in time to keep himself from spattering his desk and important papers with his seed. He leaned back in his chair, panting.

He'd gone months without any sort of release, finding neither time nor privacy on the front lines. Now, the image of Elizabeth in lurid sexuality had brought him there in an instant.

His sex ached, and he inwardly damned himself for not allowing himself release. He would have to be extra careful that whatever Elizabeth might do to him the next morning would not incite him to release his seed on her, or _god forbid,_ in her.

Darcy ran his (nonsoiled) hand through his hair and across his face. Maybe Elizabeth wasn't the one he needed to worry about.

Tomorrow they would see.

At the thought of tomorrow, Darcy's member jumped in anticipation, eliciting a loud groan of frustration.


End file.
